


Time And Relative Multiples In Space

by The No-Name System (shnuffeluv)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, American Companion, Gen, Interfering TARDIS, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Meddling TARDIS, Multiple Personalities, Multiplicity/Plurality, Not Canon Compliant, Twelfth Doctor Era, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-04-08 12:18:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14105232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shnuffeluv/pseuds/The%20No-Name%20System
Summary: Tim is a human. Not an ordinary human, no, but a human nonetheless. The Doctor, however, is unconvinced of this fact. Who knew that having Otherwise Specified Dissociative Disorder could label you as an alien to alien technology, get yourself nearly shot to death by Daleks, and get a TARDIS to label you as perfect for the Doctor's next companion?...Wait, run that last part past Tim again?





	1. Chapter 1

It had been a peculiar day for Tim. It wasn't necessarily a  _bad_ peculiar, but there were little things in his day that didn't add up. A lot more people called him "sir" rather than "ma'am", for one. For another, he could have sworn he saw the same man out of the corner of his eye four different times. And a third, he was actually feeling...relatively relaxed for once.

That, of course, evaporated the second he went in to work. Customers shouting, too many messes to clean up, and he thought that if he had to deal with one more problem, his head would explode. Which is why, of course, when he was heading to the bathroom, someone roughly grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him away. He twisted around best he could to see who it was; most customers would not be this rough. "Stop moving," a rough voice with an accent Tim didn't immediately place ordered.

Well. That just made Tim want to squirm more, but that tone of voice made him fairly sure that if he did, he was going to be in pain because of it. So he stiffened but did as he was told, trying to push back McGee or Virgil, who were both eager to give whoever this was a piece of their minds (the piece which, unfortunately, would get Tim fired). Delta was even harder to keep back, and Tim had to settle for keeping him co-conscious and praying that he wouldn't lash out and leave Tim without memory of what happened.

Tim was dragged into the janitor's closet and the words left his mouth without his permission: "You'd better have a good reason for interrupting me during my bathroom break."

 _"Delta!"_  Tim shouted inwardly with his face buried in his hands.

Tim was spun around to see an older man clutching him by the shoulders, a wild, angry look in his eyes. Any apology Tim might have said died on his lips. The best course of action now would be to be silent. "What are you?" the man asked.

"Wh...?" Tim asked, confusion overriding his desire to keep silent.

The man, who Tim finally realized must be Scottish, shook him. "Come on, you know who I am. The Doctor, The Oncoming Storm, Defender of Earth! It's better you just tell me what you are now and leave, then play stupid and continue your invasion!"

"Mister, I don't know who you think I am," Tim said slowly. "But I just work here. I've got nothing that you could want. I only get paid nine dollars and seventy-five cents an hour. I'm  _broke_."

This was, apparently, the wrong answer. The man growled and used a hand to reach into his pocket, bringing out a glowing rectangle that looked like a smartphone minus the backing, and the circuitry. "Come on, I  _know_  you have more than one set of brainwaves, that's not  _human_!" the man said, showing Tim the screen.

There were a bunch of circles and lines and dots, and below that there were two sets of what Tim supposed must be brain waves. His and Delta's, he supposed, if this man were speaking the truth. "I'm completely human," Tim said weakly. He was half convinced he was going to be killed at this rate.

The man laughed and Tim insisted, "I am! Look, you can't tell my boss this, but I have this condition--"

He was cut off with a scoff. "Oh, please. You're going for the stupid, 'I have a medical condition' excuse? That's the oldest trick in the book, and let me tell you, I've used it a million times myself!"

"It's called Otherwise Specified Dissociative Disorder!" Tim interrupted. "I'm not alone in my head, yeah, but I'm completely human!"

The man stared at him incredulously and Tim just willed him to believe this statement. After a prolonged silence, Tim said, "Look, whatever you're looking for, I'm not it, unless you're looking for a queer disabled transman."

"So you are at least transgender," the man muttered. "I'm glad I put that in the perception filter."

"The what?" Tim asked. "And who are you?"

The man pocketed the rectangle and said, "Oh, that's unimportant. Now, off you pop, I'm sure you still have to use the restroom and your boss won't like you taking too long."

With that, Tim was unceremoniously shoved out of the closet and left to wonder what, exactly, happened. He hurried to the bathroom, doing his business quickly, and hurrying back to the sales floor as quickly as possible so that he wouldn't be yelled at any more than he already had been. But his mind was whirring with questions. Who was that man? Was he a man at all? What was that glowing rectangle? And...what was that commotion coming from the front of the store?

Tim moved as fast as he could, thankful he had elected to use a sports bra to bind today instead of his actual binder. You never knew when the job would require some running or weight-lifting. What he saw when he got to the front stunned him. There was a bronze-ish robot with little bulbs all over its lower half, a whisk and plunger on its front, as well as a single...well, Tim assumed it was some sort of camera or eye on top. It wasn't doing anything, except looking around. When it saw Tim, it froze, and Tim's heart started to hammer. What was so fascinating about him that this robot would stop and focus on him? "SCANNING BRAIN WAVES," the robot said. "SCAN COMPLETE. MULTIPLE BRAIN WAVE PATTERNS DETECTED. TIME LORD SPOTTED! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!"

Tim ducked behind a clothes rack as the whisk shot off a beam of light at where he had just been standing. He felt someone grab his hand, and looked over to find the man from before standing above him. "Run!" he hissed.

Well, if Tim was going to be shot at by some robot, he didn't need to be twice. He followed the man, never letting go of his hand, running as fast as he could for as long as he could across the store. The cries of the robot were following them and seemed to be getting closer, and Tim could feel himself start to panic. "No, no, no, not now," he muttered out loud. "McGee, help keep the body calm, will you?"

The man gave him an odd look, but Tim couldn't give him any of his attention, just focused on helping McGee prevent a panic attack. Tim looked around and spotted the staff room. He ran in front of the man and exclaimed, "This way!" making a bee line for the door.

Thankfully, it was unlocked and Tim dashed in, the man following, slipping in just before Tim slammed the door and locked it. He was gasping, his lungs aching and he thought he  _really_  should have renewed the prescription for his inhaler. "That should buy time, right?" he asked.

The man behind him laughed. "A Dalek could blow up that door in less than a second."

Dread bubbled in Tim's stomach and his breathing continued to be too shallow. McGee was pushing him away from front and before he knew it, Tim was back in the Inner World.

McGee turned and looked around the staff room, looking for anything to help them in this situation. He zeroed in on the Emergency Exit. "That...that thing. It was alone?" he asked.

"I should think so, it was just a scout," the man said. "Looking for me and found you instead. Sorry about that."

McGee narrowed his eyes and pointed at the man. "When this is over, I am having a talk with you about stalking the host."

"Noted," the man said blandly. "What are you planning?"

"Emergency exit," McGee said, walking over.

"Great. And after that?" the man inquired.

McGee bit his lip. "I don't know yet. But we have a little time before that robot-thing catches up with us, may as well use it."

The man looked at McGee in interest. "Your name wouldn't happen to be...McGee, would it?"

"Yup, but don't tell my boss," McGee said. "And don't tell anyone else, for that matter. The fact that I exist is not commonly accepted."

"Of course not," the man said, coming over. "I have a place that's safe from Daleks, the least I can do is take you there after making them come after you."

"You sent that thing to kill us?!" McGee asked.

"What? No, no! They were looking for me, found you instead, now it's trying to kill the both of us. Now come on, we don't have time to waste!" the man exclaimed, gesturing to the door.

McGee gave the door a shove and ignored the fire alarm that immediately set off. The man grabbed his hand once they were outside, and they were back to running. McGee's lungs burned and he briefly wondered why they didn't exercise more and invest in that inhaler. Tim reminded him that they were "a" broke college student before McGee could complain about it.

There was a blue box on the corner of the street, and people had gathered around it. McGee blinked. That hadn't been there on his commute to work, and they were headed straight for it. "Excuse me, coming through!" the man called.

It took a minute, but McGee and the man got through the crowd. The man opened the door and manhandled McGee in before he could protest. The man closed the door behind them, but McGee was more focused on the inside of the box than the door, because both he and the man fit inside it, and he was pretty sure the entire crowd outside could, too. "It's..." he managed, before Tim joined him at cofront from sheer curiosity. "It's...it's bigger...? On the inside?!" they asked together.

The man walked passed him with a grin. "Yes, yes it is," he said. "It's called a TARDIS, and it's my time machine."

"Time machine--you're from the future?!" Tim asked. "How is it? How does this work, for that matter? I know it probably takes a lot of math and science, but would I be able to understand the basics?! Could you try explaining it anyway?"

The man blinked. "You're suddenly very enthusiastic."

"I'm a math nerd," Tim said simply. "And McGee is mostly stunned, so I've got the mouth."

The man tilted his head slightly. "Who  _are_  you?" he asked.

"Funny, I could ask the same thing of you," Tim said, lips quirking up.

"I'm the Doctor," the man said.

"Hi the Doctor, I'm Dad," Tim laughed.

The Doctor stared at him incredulously. After a prolonged silence, he said, "Don't do that again," in a pained voice.

Tim just grinned innocently before looking around more and taking a few hesitant steps inward. "So...a TARDIS? That short for anything?"

"Time And Relative Dimension In Space," the Doctor said.

Tim nodded. "How is it bigger on the inside, exactly?"

The Doctor opened his mouth to explain but the faint cry of "EXTERMINATE!" was heard through the door.

"I'll explain later. Right now we have to move," the Doctor said. "This thing is Dalek-proof but the people outside aren't."

Tim nodded. "Right. Can I do anything?"

The Doctor turned to the control panel and started pulling seemingly random levers and pushing buttons. "Just hold on, and don't die!"

The TARDIS jerked upward and Tim stumbled, grabbing onto the nearest railing to stay upright. There was a hollow  _THUNK_  outside the door before they moved very far, and the cry of "EXTERMINATE!" stopped for a minute before multiplying. Tim looked around, alarmed. "Uh...I know that's not coming from in here, but uh...where  _is_  that coming from?"

"That's a good question. What's your name?" the Doctor asked.

"Tim," Tim responded.

"That's a good question Tim. But shut up for a minute while I try and figure out where exactly I need to fly this thing!" the Doctor exclaimed.

Tim huffed, "Rude," under his breath, but said nothing else.

The TARDIS kept swerving and groaning and Tim was more than a little worried that she might brake. The Doctor was muttering angrily under his breath, and Tim made his way closer to the control panel. When the Doctor was on the other side of it, Tim reached a hand out and grabbed on. The hum he felt from the console was...strange, to say the least. It almost felt...sentient. "It's okay," he murmured without thinking. "It's gonna be okay, you'll be okay."

Slowly, the TARDIS started to steady herself. Tim kept his hand on the console, muttering that everything was going to be fine, as much for himself as for the TARDIS. The Doctor stared at him incredulously. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"I...don't know," Tim said helplessly.

"Whatever you're doing, keep doing it!" the Doctor exclaimed, continuing to work the controls.

Tim moved his other hand from the railing to the console. "Hey, it's okay," he murmured. "Things are a little shaky right now but it's gonna be all right. The protectors aren't out, there's no immediate danger in here, I can help you as long as you need."

The TARDIS hummed under his fingers and he laughed. "You remind me of our littles, in some ways. And in some ways this feels completely strange but...I don't know. I just feel like you're...like us. A little misunderstood sometimes, yeah, but still alive. Still real. Still thinking."

The Doctor was staring at him and Tim looked up, blushing. "Sorry, I know it's probably strange to do that..."

"No, no," the Doctor said faintly. "I do it to. But most people I find...don't."

Tim shrugged. "Well, I don't know. She feels real enough to me. I mean, I'm part of a system with a dragon and an anthropomorphic fox. A living spaceship-slash-time machine doesn't seem completely out of the picture."

The Doctor gave him a half-grin before there was a gentle thump as they landed on the ground. Tim gave the Doctor an inquisitive look. "I don't hear those things outside. Daleks?"

"No, I imagine you wouldn't," the Doctor said. "I put up a perception filter around the TARDIS. Perfect for hiding out in safety until the Daleks are gone. Stay here while I deal with them."

"What?" Tim asked. "But...do you need any help or anything?"

The Doctor grabbed sunglasses from off the console and shook his head. "No, I've got this on my own," he said with confidence. "Don't need another alien to try and mess up my plans of saving the world so that they can take over the world."

"I'm not...I'm not an alien," Tim said.

"Well, I may have left you be before, but that's because there was the issue with the Dalek that had started to follow me. But a human doesn't have two conflicting sets of brain waves. It's just not possible," the Doctor said, walking out the door and closing it behind him.

"It is if you're a system," Tim grumbled. He took his hands off the console and looked around. "Well, this is interesting, at the very least. Wouldn't mind curling up in here with a book."

There was a commotion outside and Tim turned, concerned, towards the door. "What is going on out there?" he asked aloud.

A screen popped up on the console showing the Doctor standing in front of five of those Daleks. Tim's eyes widened. "He's gonna die out there!" he exclaimed.

He ran to the doors but they wouldn't open and the TARDIS made a deep grumbling sound. Tim looked back toward the console. "Well I can't just leave him to die!" Tim exclaimed. "I have to help him!"

The console started flickering with light. Or at least, one of the buttons did. Tim walked back over and his finger hovered over it. "Do I...press this?" he asked.

The button continued to blink. Tim frowned. "Sorry, I have anxiety, I'm gonna need an answer to ensure I don't blow anything up!"

"Voice Interface Activated," a voice said from behind him.

Tim turned around to find a hologram of McGee standing there, staring at him expectantly. He jumped. "That's creepy," Tim said. "You're...you're who I was talking to before?"

The hologram blinked once, before replying, "In a sense, yes. I am one component of many that keeps this ship alive. Is this form not to your satisfaction?"

"No, no, it's fine!" Tim exclaimed. "I just...wasn't expecting it. So, I press this button?"

"Yes," the voice said. "Any button or lever that lights up, you press or pull. If you have any questions, voice them and I will answer to the best of my ability."

Tim nodded and glanced at the screen, noticing that the Daleks were getting impatient, and one of them had started aiming their whisk-like attachment at the Doctor. Tim worked fast, pressing button after button and pulling lever after lever. When he finally got to slam a big blue button, it was just as one of the Daleks fired. The Doctor flinched on the screen, but merely stood there for a few seconds. He looked around, confused. "Ah! The old girl put up the forcefields?" he asked. "I thought I was dead, but it appears that I'm on her good side after all!"

Tim snorted before the sentence hit him full force. The Doctor was convinced he was dead? He just...walked out there expecting to be killed?! He stalked to the doors, and this time, they opened without protest. "Doctor, you have a  _lot_  of explaining to do!" Tim snapped.

The Doctor turned to him, surprised. "Ah, Tim, I wasn't expecting you to come out here!"

Tim grit his teeth. "You. Inside.  _Now._ "

"Why? What did I do?" the Doctor said.

"You walked out here expecting to die," Tim said. "Inside! Now!"

The Doctor arched his eyebrows but complied. Tim slammed the door, crossing his arms. "Why would you go out there if you thought you were going to die?!"

"I didn't expect to, but my sonic screwdriver apparently wasn't charging overnight," the Doctor said, holding up the stick-like thing from before. "But it appears the TARDIS has other plans, despite her not being happy that I've been going wherever I want alone recently. She put up the forcefields--"

"Incorrect," the voice interface from before said. "Your companion put up the forcefields under proper instruction."

Tim's mouth went dry and the Doctor sputtered, "Sorry?"

The interface tilted its head. "Incorrect. Your companion put up the forcefields under proper instruction," it repeated.


	2. Chapter 2

"Companion, what does that mean, companion?" Tim asked, voice rising in pitch. He didn't like to think of those implications. Submissive, obedient to a fault, almost like when Amanda--no.  _No_ , he was  _not_  going to think about that. That's how traumaholders formed and that's how he lost time to them.

"He's not a companion, I just brought him here to keep him safe from the Daleks!" the Doctor exclaimed.

"Incorrect," the voice interface said.

"You're incorrect!" the Doctor yelled.

"Incorrect."

Tim held a hand up. "Hang on. What's...What's a companion?" he asked.

"It's not important. Because you're not going to be one," the Doctor said with a pointed glare at the interface.

The TARDIS made a horrible noise and all the lights turned off, leaving them in darkness for a few seconds before some low light from the floor turned back on. "What just happened?" Tim asked.

The Doctor paid him no mind. "Oh, so  _that's_  how you want to play it, huh?! You don't get your way so you keep us trapped in here?! Very mature!"

"Doctor," Tim said. "That's not gonna help us."

"You don't get to tell me what will and won't help us!" the Doctor shouted.

Tim flinched and shrunk back, pressing himself against the doors of the TARDIS. She made an angry sound and the lights dimmed. "No! Please, keep the lights on," Tim said hurriedly.

Slowly, the lights turned back up. Tim's heart was hammering in his chest and he was shaking and crying. His hands were trembling so hard that when he brought them up to his hair to grab he was automatically tugging at the strands. He sunk to the floor and continued to cry; he was beating himself up on the inside but he couldn't help it.

McGee forced him away from front and slowly released their hair, bringing their hands around their middle. Their body was still panicking, but the mind wasn't overwhelmed with terrible thoughts making the panicking worse anymore. The Doctor was staring at him, and McGee growled, standing up. "First, you stalk us. Then you yell at Tim?! You're on very,  _very_  thin ice, Doctor," he grit out.

The Doctor brought out his rectangle device again and observed it. "Huh. No signs of Tim's brain waves anywhere. What did you do to your host?"

"I took him away from front so you couldn't yell at him anymore," McGee growled. "And you're not going to yell at  _any_  of us. We're leaving."

McGee turned and tried to open the door, but it was locked. He huffed and looked around the TARDIS. "I get you want us to stay, but Tim is not in a good state right now," he said. "I need somewhere to calm him down, and the best place for that would be our house, considering he's probably getting fired from his job for running out during an alien invasion."

He tried the door again but it was still locked. "Well, I can't very well calm him down in front of the man he's terrified of!" he exclaimed.

The panels of the floor of the TARDIS glowed, tracing into one of the corridors. McGee followed the pattern down the corridor, and noticed it never went out of his sight; it stayed with his pace of walking. Eventually, it stopped outside a nondescript wooden door, white with a reflective brownish metal knob. He turned it, and his eyebrows rose. It looked like Tim's room in the Inner World. Orange walls, blueish-purple accents in the rug and the curtains, posters for  _The Ultimate Storytime_  and  _Sanders Sides_  all over the walls, NCIS figurines on the dresser, and in the middle of it all, a queen-sized bed with navy blue covers. On it, were a few stuffed animals, the ones McGee knew full well Tim had an attachment to. He sat on the bed and grabbed the closest one, a stuffed polar bear, and sniffed it. It even  _smelled_  like it used to fresh out of the washer. He hugged it close to his chest and murmured, "It's okay, Tim. You're safe."

The flurry of thoughts in the back of his mind coming from Tim had slowed down significantly. He inhaled the scent of the stuffed bear again before putting it back on the bed. He kicked off his shoes, crawled further on the bed, and flopped down in the center, looking up at the ceiling. He would sleep except he wasn't very tired yet and he still had his glasses on.

He could hear someone grumbling, and it was coming closer and closer to him. Well, whatever. If the Doctor wanted to talk, that didn't mean McGee had to listen. He hugged the bear close and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and releasing it slowly.

The grumbling stopped right outside the door, and McGee opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling. Much as he liked this room, it certainly didn't feel like his, or Gibbs' for that matter. If he was going to be dragged out of it, he wouldn't mind too badly...provided Tim stayed calm.

McGee sat up and looked at the Doctor expectantly. "Well?" McGee asked.

"Well, what?" the Doctor asked.

McGee laughed. "You're not even going to apologize for what you did?"

"What did I do?" the Doctor asked.

"Are you...are you completely oblivious? Do you really need me to spell out what happened?" McGee asked. "You! Yelling! At Tim! Not a good idea! He's not the most fragile thing in the world, but he can and does split when too much pressure is put on him!"

The Doctor now looked confused instead of the blank stare McGee was receiving earlier, which was an improvement but not by much. "Split?" the Doctor asked.

McGee sighed. "You know what? As bad an idea I think this is, Tim explains this so much better than I can, because he's the one who's done hours of research. If you yell at him again, believe me, you will be safe nowhere on this ship."

The Doctor looked further confused, but before he could even think to say "What?" Tim was out and talking. "Okay, so long story short, there's these three disorders, right? They're referred to as Dissociative Identity Disorder, and Otherwise Specified Dissociative Disorder, either 1a or 1b. All three of these happen from the same or similar causes, that being repeated early childhood trauma. You see, children before around the ages of...oh, six to nine? They have different aspects of themselves that are separated from each other. Now naturally, over time, these parts will fuse to form a whole personality. But if the repeated trauma is severe enough to the child, then they will set up barriers between the parts of this single personality, and these parts will grow and develop separate of each other. This can be as little as two parts or as many as over one hundred! It's really amazing to read about!"

The Doctor stared at Tim. "And every human can do this?"

"Well no, not every human," Tim said. "It takes a certain amount of creativity, and a specific set of survival skills, but any human has the potential for it in the very beginning of their lives, I suppose."

"Why didn't you just say so in the beginning?" the Doctor asked. "You're just an ordinary human! Nothing special!"

"Gee thanks," Tim said. "And I  _did_. You're the one who didn't believe me."

"Did you?" the Doctor asked.

"Yes," Tim said. "And you never answered my question. What's a companion?"

The Doctor leaned against the door frame and said nothing.

"Oh come on, Doctor," Tim reasoned. "I told you the very basics of  _how I tick_. The least you can do is answer  _my_  question."

"A companion is just what it sounds like. Someone I take with me in my travels through time and space," the Doctor said.

Tim was sure he turned slightly green. "So, does that mean all the connotations are there as well?"

"Connotations?" the Doctor asked.

"You know the..." Tim's voice failed him. He didn't want to say it. "The being all submissive and completely obedient and all that? Because, I-I should warn you, I don't want to be romantically involved or...worse, with anyone over twice my age, you know?"

"That's not what being a companion means," the Doctor said. "At least not to me, not from where I'm from."

"It's not?" Tim asked.

The Doctor shook his head. "A companion is a trusted friend, someone you go to when you need input, or a shoulder for support. They're someone you share a laugh with, someone you don't think you could live without. And the only way you know you can live without them, is if they're gone, and you know there's no way they can come back."

Tim stood there in solemn silence a moment. There was pain in the Doctor's voice and in his eyes. "...That's rather poetic," he eventually said. "But you don't have one of those now?"

"No," the Doctor responded.

"Don't you want one?" Tim asked.

"Well sure," the Doctor responded.

"So why  _not_  me? Why the vehemence against it?" Tim asked.

"Because you seem like a good person," the Doctor said. "And I don't want to hurt you."

"How would you hurt me?" Tim asked.

"That's a good question, one which I wish I knew the answer to," the Doctor said. "The fact of the matter is that my life is too dangerous. It's filled with too much risk and too many dangers to know how I could prevent you from getting hurt."

"But you brought others along for the ride," Tim said. "Obviously something overrides your fear of a companion getting hurt, right? What is that?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Something. There's always just this...quality that one of them might have that interests me. A quirk in a smile, a mysterious past, a passing phrase. It changes every time, I suppose. But it's always something that doesn't seem important to most, but is in fact the most important thing in the world."

"It is the little things, isn't it?" Tim agreed. "The time someone smiled at you on a bad day, or the person who holds a door open for you when your hands are full. It's a best friend's hug, a sister's joke, a dad's 'good night'? You have to value the little things. Otherwise, you're always waiting for the big epiphanies that are never guaranteed."

The Doctor stared at Tim and Tim shrugged. "What? I like appreciating the little things too."

Tim put down the bear and yanked his shoes back on. "So we're stuck in here until otherwise specified, right? The least we can do is figure out how to deal with the Daleks."

While Tim continued to walk, he pretended to be oblivious to the Doctor's stare and the way he stayed in the doorway of the room. He supposed he could call it his, in a way, but he didn't want to be presumptuous. He pulled out his phone and noticed he had five missed calls. He unlocked his phone and groaned when he saw they were all from his boss. He was  _so_  dead.

The TARDIS hummed and Tim looked up and around. The lights were slowly turning on again, and despite himself, Tim smiled just a bit. He didn't like it when it was completely dark in the TARDIS, he felt like it didn't bode well for anyone. But if she was happy, then maybe things were looking up.

He found the main room and looked around. There had to be something here that could help them with the Daleks. Short defeating them, it would help to get them off Tim's scent. He walked up one of the staircases and looked around the upper level. There was a guitar, several bookshelves, and so much miscellaneous stuff Tim couldn't hope to name. The Doctor ran into the room, looking around wildly until he spotted Tim. "What did you do?" he asked.

"Do you ever clean in here? Like, ever?" Tim asked.

"No, not really. Cleaning's boring. What did you do?" the Doctor repeated.

"I walked out here? As I did the lights turned back on little by little, but all I did was walk," Tim said.

The Doctor frowned. "The TARDIS--she doesn't do stuff like that and just stop if she doesn't get her way."

"Well, maybe she got her way," Tim offered, looking around. "Is there anything we can do to get the Daleks off our backs? I can't look over my shoulder all the time, my PTSD is bad enough, you know?"

"PTSD?" the Doctor asked.

"Yeah. I've got OSDD, PTSD, depression, lots of different brain disorders. It's not fun, but I manage. I bet I'd manage a lot better if I didn't have Daleks chasing me down, though," Tim said.

The Doctor stared at him. "If you have all those issues why are you working in retail?"

"Only job I could find," Tim said, picking a book off the shelf. "How much stuff do you have in here, exactly?"

"A lot," the Doctor replied. "Any ideas for getting the Daleks off Earth?"

"Launch them to the moon, or beyond?" Tim joked.

The Doctor looked thoughtful. "That's not a bad idea," he said.

"What?!" Tim asked incredulously. "Doctor, I was joking."

"No, no, I know. But if we take your brain wave pattern and broadcast it from the moon, all the Daleks will go there to exterminate the 'Time Lord' they picked up. Then they shoot what they think the Time Lord is and they'll move on, away from Earth. I'm the only reason they're here, so they shouldn't stick around after they think they've got their man," the Doctor explained. "They're too needed trying to destroy another planet."

"Another planet?" Tim asked. "As in, another planet with  _more_  sentient people on it?"

"Yeah. Don't worry, I can save them too, eventually. Handy thing about having a time machine, you can come home for tea every day while still making sure planets on the other side of the universe are still safe."

"Must be nice," Tim said idly as the Doctor ran around the console, playing with the controls, as the TARDIS turned on more bit by bit.

"It is," the Doctor said, poking his head around to look at Tim, an almost manic grin on his face. "Would you like to see it in action?"

"Wh...for real?!" Tim asked excitedly.

"For real," the Doctor confirmed. "It may just be to get rid of the Daleks, but you'll still get to see it work."

Tim grinned and ran down the stairs to the controls, as the TARDIS' lights came back up to full power. "That sounds amazing!" he exclaimed. "What can I do to help?"

"Pull that lever," the Doctor said, pointing.

Tim did, and he could feel the TARDIS thrum to life, a whooshing noise enveloping him and the Doctor as the engine rumbled beneath their feet. Tim looked up and around him, an awestruck smile on his face. "Fantastic!" Tim exclaimed.

"She really is," the Doctor said, offering his own smile to Tim, though this one didn't quite reach his eyes.

The TARDIS came to a stop all too soon and the Doctor pointed to the door. "I'll expand the air shield so that you can breathe outside, all you need to do is make sure the Daleks spot you and think that you died when they shoot at you."

Tim thought that over. It seemed easy enough, but there was the niggling thought in the back of his head, that the Daleks were needed elsewhere. That meant they'd be coming after innocent people. He didn't want that. "I have an idea," he said. "And it might be somewhat crazy, but I think it might just work better than pretending to die."

"Crazy's good, I can work with crazy," the Doctor said.

"The Daleks can kill anything with their lasers, right? Or at least most things that usually can't be killed or destroyed?"

"Yes...?" the Doctor asked, prompting Tim to continue.

"Well, does that include their own armor?" Tim asked.

The Doctor blinked once, twice. Then, he ran up the stairs of the TARDIS yelling, "Timothy, you are a genius!"

"Well thanks, but what are you doing?! We have to make sure the Daleks shoot themselves before they can shoot me!"

The Doctor came back down the stairs with what looked like a child's astronaut costume in an adult size, bagging fabric and fishbowl-head and all, and a remote with a single button on it. He passed the costume to Tim. "Put this on," he instructed. "That will keep you warm outside. This button," he said, passing it to Tim as well, "Will transport you back to the TARDIS when you need a quick escape. It only has enough juice for one press, so make it count."

"Got it," Tim said, putting the costume on and finding it radiating warmth on the inside. He walked to the door, button in hand, and stepped outside.

A little screen popped up in the corner of his vision on the bowl and the Doctor was standing there, peering at him. "All right then, Tim. You know what you have to do, just try not to get shot before all the Daleks land."

"I'll do my best," Tim muttered under his breath, leaping across the landscape when he tried to take a step, and finding that Daleks were materializing out of thin air (or was it no air?) and flying around him in lazy circles before landing. "Gentlemen!" he greeted them. "Or is it gentlewomen? Gentlepeople? I don't exactly know your genders, if you have them at all."

The Daleks were moving back and forth in a way that Tim could almost call anxious, laser guns beginning to point at him. "YOU WILL SURRENDER, TIME LORD, OR YOU WILL BE EXTERMINATED!" one of the Daleks exclaimed.

"Yeah I think you're going to kill me either way," Tim said, wincing. "And I'm not about that life. Sorry. But, uh, hey! Think about it this way: if I don't go quietly, I put up a fight? Your kind...finds that respectable, don't they?"

"ONLY IF THE FIGHT IS DIFFICULT TO OVERCOME. YOU WILL DIE EASILY AND QUICKLY."

"Great," Tim muttered.

The Daleks all aimed at him. He looked around, closed his eyes, and pressed the button as he heard the lasers fire.


End file.
